


Christmas With Draco

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry tries to give a two year old Draco the best Christmas ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas With Draco

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cremebunny](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cremebunny).



> Betaed by the always wonderful digthewriter and stephaniejo84. Couldn't have made it without them. Cremebunny, darling, I hope this is what you're looking for! Merry Christmas and best wishes!

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes viciously, blinking as his vision blurred. The Pediatrics Ward of St Mungos lay before him—an endless passage of white and more white, interspersed every now and then with bright pictures of farm animals, friendly clowns and flowers. One of the clowns blew a raspberry at Harry and cartwheeled off with a cackle.

Harry scowled and tried to get comfortable on the narrow bench, shifting his squirming bundle to his other shoulder. Children were _fidgety_. It was decidedly inconvenient considering how exhausted he was. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, in anticipation of the raid and now...well, he could hardly sleep _now_. Nevertheless, he was _not_ putting the toddler down. He’d gotten himself into enough trouble as it was. He could just stay where he was and if he didn’t like it, tough. With a tired sigh, Harry propped the baby up, trying his hardest to minister a stern expression as he looked into guileless grey eyes.

“Well, Malfoy,” he declared. “Here’s another mess you’ve gotten us into. I hope you’re happy.”

His Auror Partner gurgled seriously at him, grey eyes blinking rapidly as he engaged Harry in incomprehensible conversation. No doubt it was baby talk for _this whole screw up is your fault. Stupid Potter, always charging in without thinking things out first. What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?_

“I think I was trying to save your ar...er, butt again,” Harry argued. “Don’t you know better than to turn your back on a wanted criminal during a stakeout? How did you pass your DMLE finals, eh?”

“Ababa,” Draco replied firmly. Clearly, he was convinced that he had done nothing wrong.

“I see,” Harry grumbled. “And I suppose it’s my fault for casting that Shielding Charm on you? You do realize that Yaxley wasn’t exactly going for a Jelly Legs Jinx, right? If it weren’t for me, you’d be in far worse shape so I suggest you cut me some slack.”

“No.”

“Typical,” Harry sighed. Draco responded with an impish giggle and patted his cheek. Harry blinked in surprise at the tiny pocket of warmth against his skin and he reached out instinctively, gently pulling the child’s hand away and looking at it.

Draco’s hand—much like the rest of him—looked too small to be real. Chubby with grasping fingers and tiny, _tiny_ fingernails...if Harry looked hard enough, he could just make out delicate blue veins underneath that pale skin. For a fully trained Auror, Harry found himself absurdly frightened by the sight. Draco was so small, so damn fragile at that moment. He tucked the hand away carefully, running a gentle finger down the baby’s cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” he said firmly. “We’ll get you back to your obnoxious twenty one year old self soon enough, I promise.”

Although if he did say so himself, Draco made for a cute little tyke. A _very_ cute tyke. With his shock of blond hair and big, grey eyes and chubby cheeks...how something so adorable had grown up into his snarky, snappish fellow Auror, Harry would never understand.

“Ga!” Malfoy declared suddenly, breaking Harry’s train of thought. Those grey eyes widened in awe and suddenly Harry was contending with a small hand grappling for his face again. “Mal—Draco, no,” he groaned as the baby made a swipe for his glasses. Malfoy’s sudden fascination with his spectacles was another issue. Apparently, _shiny_ trumped _life altering crisis_ in his world.

“Stop it, you little magpie,” Harry grumbled. “I can’t see without them and you know it.”

Malfoy pouted at him, slumping back on Harry’s lap and crossing his little arms as he readied himself for a good sulk. Harry chuckled and ruffled his hair gently. “There. Now you’re looking like your old self.”

A discreet door on the left suddenly opened, diverting his attention. Hermione poked her head out. Her face was as welcome a sight as ever.

“Bring him in, Harry.”

Harry shifted Draco in his arms carefully as he stood. “Come on then. Everything’s going to be okay now, yeah?" 

He felt a lot better as he shepherded Draco into the Healer’s office.

 

 

* * *

 

“You don’t know how to turn him back?!”

Harry gaped in horror, his eyes riveting from Hermione’s carefully neutral expression to Zabini’s clearly disapproving one.

“Stop your squawking, Potter,” the Healer—who was most certainly _not_ Harry’s best friend in the world—declared with a sneer. “This is clearly harder for Draco than it is for you.” His gaze shifted to baby Draco who was currently settled on Harry’s lap, sucking a candy cane.

Zabini’s eyes softened noticeably. He leaned down and brushed Draco’s fringe back. Draco blinked at him and Zabini smiled. “How’s my best mate doing then?” he asked in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. Draco reached out and grasped his finger. Zabini pinched his cheek affectionately before rounding up on Harry again.

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded.

“Of course you’d think this was my fault,” Harry gritted, refusing to let the prat intimidate him. He had never been fond of Zabini. He told himself that it was because he simply didn’t like his high handedness and arrogance, but somewhere inside him he knew that he had only started actually disliking the man once he started working closely with Hermione. It wasn’t his fault. Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit protective of his friends and Zabini wasn’t exactly willing to give way either. So no, Harry did _not_ like him.

End of story.

It was Hermione who stepped in. “I think what Healer Zabini is trying to say—rather unsuccessfully, I might add—is that we’d all like to know what Draco was hit with.”

“A Shielding Charm and an unidentified curse,” another voice put in suddenly. Kingsley’s imposing figure stepped out of the floo. The Head Auror brushed some soot off his robes and nodded at the small company. The small office suddenly looked rather cramped.

“Head Auror Shacklebolt,” Zabini acknowledged with a terse nod. Hermione smiled and greeted Kingsley with a welcoming hug. Harry couldn’t help noticing the way Zabini’s eyes flickered slightly at the affectionate display.

Duly noted.

Kingsley disengaged Hermione gently and marched over to his Junior Aurors. Harry nodded in greeting but Draco whined in sudden distress and burrowed into his arms. Harry’s attention snapped back to him at once. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked softly, rubbing Draco’s back.

“Big,” Draco mumbled, giving Kingsley a cautious look before hiding in Harry’s arms again.

Oh.

The sudden silence was broken by Hermione’s stifled giggle. Harry flushed and Kingsley cleared his throat, stepping back obligingly. Draco relaxed visibly, but he refused to come out again. Harry continued rubbing circles in his back as he listened to the conversation.

“Yaxley isn’t talking,” Kingsley said. “But that’s why we have Veritaserum.”

Zabini looked a lot more relaxed. “Once the curse is identified, we can start figuring out how it reacted with Potter’s shielding charm. Then we’ll have to develop a counter curse…”

“That will take time,” Hermione added with a frown. “At least three weeks, if we’re lucky.”

“Three weeks,” Kingsley echoed. His thoughtful eyes drifted back to baby Draco. “That puts us in a bit of a spot.”

“Why?” Harry demanded.

“He has to stay somewhere, Harry,” Hermione explained patiently. “We can’t very well expect him to fend for himself.”

Harry failed to see the problem. Obviously, Draco would stay with him until he recovered. Honestly, where else would he go? So when Zabini spoke up it was no wonder that he bristled indignantly.

“He’ll be staying with me, of course,” Zabini declared firmly. “I’ve known him the longest. He’ll be perfectly safe in my care.”

“He’ll be perfectly safe in mine too,” Harry snapped, tightening his hold on the small boy. Draco squeaked in surprise but bunched small fists into his robes, anchoring himself to Harry. It only furthered Harry’s resolve to keep him. Draco needed him the most, he knew it.

Zabini however, begged to differ. “If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be in this mess!”

Harry scowled and stood up, glaring him down. “I saved him, you prat! Yaxley was going to curse him, in case you forgot that little detail. If it weren’t for me, this would be a lot worse than de-aging. So don’t try telling me you know what’s best for him unless you’re the one who saved his life. Twice.”

“That is _completely_ irrelevant and…”

“And he’s staying with me, end of story!”

“He is most certainly not…”

“Enough.”

Kingsley’s firm voice rose above the scrapping. Both men subsided and cringed as he glared disapprovingly at them. “In case neither of you has noticed,” he growled. “You’re scaring the child.”

It was only then that Harry registered distressed whimpers and the too tight hold on his robes. A half sob emanated from the small, trembling body in his arms and Harry’s heart surged with guilt. “Oh no,” he groaned. “No, no...I’m so sorry. Hush kiddo, it’s okay. It is, I promise. Everything’s alright.”

Draco sniffed and hid in his shoulder, refusing to look at them anymore. Zabini looked appropriately stricken. “My apologies,” he muttered. “I...forgot myself.”

Hermione put a firm hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look after him _and_ work on a counter curse,” she pointed out reasonably. “We’ll be spending late nights at the lab. Where are you going to find time to look after a baby, Blaise?”

“I know that,” Zabini muttered. The scowl on his face gave way to a resigned expression. “It’s just...it’s almost Christmas.”

Harry frowned. “What does that have to do with…”

“Well, then it’s settled,” Kingsley said decisively. “Harry, you’ll be in charge of him until we can come up with a cure. I know this puts a dent in your holiday plans but…”

“I wasn’t planning anything special,” Harry replied with a shrug. He hardly ever did anything for the holidays. Zabini scoffed and stalked off, slamming a file on his desk for good measure. Harry scowled at his back. What was up with him?

“If Yaxley told you anything that might help, we could use the information,” Hermione said to Kingsley. “Perhaps we should discuss it on the way to the lab?”

“Of course,” Kingsley replied, following her out of the office. The door clicked and Harry was suddenly alone with Zabini. Draco whimpered fretfully and stared warily at them. Harry sighed in defeat. If it would make the little one feel better, he would try to make nice with Zabini.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal…”

“No, it’s not,” Zabini muttered, swiping up another file. “It’s far from ideal.”

Harry bristled again. The prat was getting on his last nerve. “You know what? I’m done. If you’re going to be this unreasonable then there’s really no point in…”

“It’s not about you!” Zabini spat. Draco flinched at his tone and Zabini groaned, schooling his expression and lowering his voice as he tried again. “You’re not the problem, Potter. I’m just...protective of my friends, that’s all.”

“I am, too,” Harry replied. It was a bit surprising to find common ground with Zabini of all people but he certainly understood the impulse. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to him, you know.”

Zabini sighed and lifted his shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Of course it would happen at Christmas,” he muttered half to himself.

“You said that before,” Harry pointed out. “What’s wrong with Christmas?”

Zabini pursed his lips and Harry just knew that he was going to clamp up again. _Stupid, secretive Slytherins._ “I’m only asking so I don’t mess up with him,” he placated. “Honestly Zabini, we’re on the same side here.”

Zabini nodded thoughtfully at that. “I suppose we are. I don’t have to like it but...there you go.”

“So tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s just that...Draco hasn’t exactly had a real Christmas. Ever.”

“What?” Harry frowned as he processed that. It didn’t seem right somehow. Of course Draco would have had a real Christmas. With his parents and...right?

“Merlin, you’re transparent.” Zabini shook his head wearily. “I understand your skepticism, Potter but believe me. I know what I’m talking about. Lucius and Narcissa—may they rest in peace—were alright as far as parents go, but they weren’t exactly big on Christmas. The holidays meant a chance to get away from the dull monotony of everyday life as far as they were concerned. So, they pretty much dumped Draco with the house elves and took off for a private vacation every year.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s pretty horrible,” he mumbled. Come to think of it, Draco had always stayed back for the holidays at Hogwarts. He hardly ever went home for Christmas. Harry had wondered but…

“I don’t think they meant anything by it,” Zabini offered. “Pureblood parents just do some things differently. By the time we were six, Mother made Narcissa’s acquaintance and Draco started spending Christmas with me. It’s...how we became friends in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not the same as family, of course. It’s just always been a hard time of the year for him and now this…” Zabini sighed and gestured at the small blond. “This happens around Christmas, of all the days.”

Harry swallowed. Honestly, what was he supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry,” he offered finally. “I had no idea.”

Zabini shrugged. “If we’re lucky, at least he won’t remember this one.” He gathered the files and stood up. “I should join Hermione in the lab. The sooner we start eliminating possibilities, the sooner we’ll get somewhere. I’ll see you, Potter. Please, just take care of him.”

Harry barely registered the click of the door as Zabini left. Draco emerged from his shoulder, looking around cautiously before coming to the conclusion that there would be no more shouting. Harry’s hand drifted to his hair. He felt unbelievably guilty. He’d had Draco for less than a day and he’d already scared him. Damn it all.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” he said softly, petting the little blond. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Harry’s sorry, okay?”

Draco peeked up at him shyly and patted his cheek in an apparent truce. Harry smiled. He was just...so cute. How could anyone have the heart to leave him all alone on Christmas? The thought was heart-wrenching. It just wasn’t right and Harry resolved to do something about it. He wasn’t too big on Christmas himself—the Dursleys had successfully cured him of any notions of holiday cheer—but for this sweet little boy...why not? Draco should have a real Christmas. 

And Harry would make certain that he did. He nodded to himself and hoisted Draco up in his arms as he stood. “Let’s go home and get some rest. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

Harry woke up early the next morning to a series of scolding babbles and an indignant hand pulling at his hair. His eyes snapped open and he bolted up, almost knocking Draco off him.

“Whoa!”

Harry dove on instinct, rescuing Draco from toppling off the bed and gathering him up. “Don’t _do_ that!” he admonished severely. “Merlin, I can’t take my eye off you for a second, can I?” He had barely caught up with all of yesterday’s events mentally, but clearly he would have to be quick about it if he wanted to keep up with this kid.

Draco wasn’t the least bit fazed. He settled on Harry lap, babbling nineteen to the dozen as Harry yawned and nodded distractedly. Draco waved and gestured and chattered on and on...Merlin, he was talkative. The full size version had certainly never been such a chatterbox, particularly at such an ungodly hour in the morning. Harry listened wearily, nodding every now and then to show he was paying due attention.

“That’s very interesting,” he offered finally. “Yes, I agree. Hey, here’s a thought. Why don’t we have this scintillating conversation at say... _not_ the crack of dawn? Okay? Right then, goodnight.”

He flopped down on the bed again, much to Draco’s displeasure. He batted indignantly at Harry’s head with shrill reprimands of “No nap!”

Harry muttered under his breath and wrapped an arm around the brat, pulling him under the blankets as well. “Yes nap,” he growled. “Long, _long_ nap.”

“No!” Draco protested. But he settled down willingly enough. Harry smiled at the warm weight in the crook of his arms and closed his eyes. Until a tiny fist wrapped into his hair and _yanked_.

Harry yelped and cracked an eye open. “Draco, no,” he said, trying to sound firm.

Draco grinned impishly and curled into his arm. Harry was beginning to recognize his _I Regret Nothing_ look. No doubt he knew he was too cute to scold, the little monster. Either way, resistance was futile. “Okay, okay. I’m up,” he sighed. “Happy now?”

Clearly he was. Harry was treated to another toothy grin and some petting as a reward. He couldn’t help a smile in return. It was nice...waking up with someone. Even someone as chatty as Draco. He could get used to this. Harry chuckled and picked up his toddler with practiced ease.

“Well, let’s get started. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

 

 

* * *

 

Hermione’s owl was waiting for them, when they finally got dressed and entered the kitchen. Harry read through her short, crisp message carefully. They were getting no further with finding a cure, but they had narrowed down the possibilities to about...sixty-four. Apparently, that was good news. She had also included some suggestions for a balanced breakfast for a two-year-old and instructions on what Harry should and shouldn’t do. It was a fairly long list. Harry felt slightly intimidated as he read through it. There were just so many things he could do wrong and not even know it.

“I’ll figure it out,” he murmured, hoisting Draco up carefully. Then he grinned and jostled the little blond. “You’ll tell me if I mess up, right? Merlin knows you never had a problem with it before.”

“Aba,” Draco agreed seriously.  Harry set him up on the counter as he went about organizing breakfast. He set up the toaster and rummaged around for some eggs and the orange juice. “Hermione sent some baby food for you,” he said as he rummaged in the fridge for the bacon. “But between you and me it looks disgusting, so we’ll just mash up the good stuff for you, okay?”

Draco babbled his agreement, pausing as he spotted something shiny at the end of the counter. The little blond’s attention snapped to it at once and his eyes widened at the sight of the toaster’s metallic exterior glinting in the morning sun. “Ooh!” he declared, scrambling for it. Harry was too caught up with the fridge to notice the ominous journey across the counter. He continued blithely pawing through the fridge.

“And maybe later we can…”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as a shrill screech rang out. Harry turned around so fast that his head knocked into the fridge. The first thing he saw was Draco clutching his hand to his chest. And then the bawling started. Harry was next to him so fast, he wasn’t sure if he’d apparated or not. All he knew was that Draco was crying—oh _Merlin_ , was he crying—and things had suddenly become very, very scary.

“Shh,” Harry soothed, picking up the sobbing child and stroking his hair. Draco wailed and burrowed into him and Harry tightened his hold. His heart hammered like a drum as he whispered reassurances to the little boy. “Hey, what’s wrong? Hush, it’s okay. Harry’s here, Harry’s got you. What hap…” He trailed off as the toaster caught his eye. Harry swore under his breath.

“I am an _idiot_ ,” he growled as he rummaged for his wand. What sort of grown up leaves a child unattended with a toaster on? Honestly, he could have kicked himself. Draco broke into fresh howls of pain and Harry hastened to take care of him first. He could devolve into a pile of self loathing later. “Draco,” he murmured gently. “You need to show me your hand, okay? Come on, let Harry see. It’s all right.”

It took a bit of coaxing, but eventually he was holding the small hand carefully and looking for a burn mark. There wasn’t any. Draco must have touched the toaster and recoiled at once, thank Merlin. But it could have been so much worse. Draco sniffled and Harry’s heart ached. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, brushing the little boy’s fringe back. “I should have been looking after you. Can you forgive me?”

Draco nodded slightly and Harry pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Such a sweet boy,” he cooed. “Can you show me your hand again? I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The healing spell did its job quickly and effectively. Harry sighed in relief as the redness and slight swelling dissipated at once. Draco frowned and flexed his fingers experimentally, before deciding that everything was in working order. He showed them to Harry, who smiled and kissed the small hand. His heartbeat was slowing down to normal, but he had no intention of putting Draco down again. He couldn’t say where this sudden protective sense had come from, but the sight of Draco crying...it had done something to him. That couldn’t happen again. It just couldn’t.

“How about we go out for breakfast?” Harry asked. “And then we can go ahead with that Christmas shopping. Would you like that?”

Draco brightened at once and bounced excitedly in his arms. Harry couldn’t help thinking that that was just how things should be.

 

 

* * *

 

After a (much safer) breakfast of pancakes in Diagon Alley, they were finally ready to do some shopping.

“Do you want these ones?” Harry asked, showing Draco a shiny red ball ornament. They had been doing rounds of the shops for hours now. Draco was exceptionally picky and Harry was starting to see some very striking resemblances between the two and twenty-year-old versions↽ particularly the faces Draco made when he was displeased.

“Yucky!”

Harry sighed as the ornament sailed through the air to the other end of the shop. Now the throwing— _that_ was new. “Draco, that’s not nice,” he admonished. “We don’t throw things just because we can.”

The answering raspberry he got was fairly in character too. Harry wrestled a stern expression on his face. Really, he had to learn.

“If you keep that up, we’re leaving.”

Draco subsided, albeit sullenly and Harry nodded his approval. “You can pick the next one,” he offered as a truce, gesturing at the shiny displays. Draco’s eyes widened and he leaned forward in Harry’s arms, grappling excitedly for the decorations. When he finally resurfaced, it was with a sparkling green ball firmly clutched in his grasp.

“Of course,” Harry chuckled. “But we’re getting red tinsel to go with them.”

An excited salesgirl bounced up with a huge box. “This is everything we have in stock, Mr Potter,” she gushed. “Your son will love these!”

Harry flushed and ran an awkward hand through his hair. “He’s...um, he’s not my son.”

“He’s not?”

“He’s more like a...well, he’s sort of...my co-worker.”

“Oh. I see," she offered, eyeing him sceptically. “So anyway, do you want to take a look at these?”

“Why not?” Harry rummaged through the box, leaving Draco in the care of the giggling girls. He picked out some more decorations while making a mental list in his head. There was still the tree and the presents...he wondered what Draco would want for Christmas. Maybe a…

“Sir! Mr Potter!”

Harry’s attention snapped back and he found himself staring at the frantic salesgirl. “Sorry, I was just thinking. What…”

“Your co-worker just ran out the door!”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror and he bolted for the exit.

 

 

* * *

 

His first thought as he ran through the alley in sheer panic was that if anything happened to Draco, he would never forgive himself. His second thought? Oh, Blaise Zabini was going to skin him alive for this.

Fifteen minutes tearing through Diagon Alley had proved futile. The streets were teeming with Christmas shoppers and Harry could barely make it two steps without stumbling into someone. His anxiety gave way to fear and despair. How was he ever going to locate a little boy in this melee? Draco must be terrified. He was all alone and lost and probably scared out of his…

“Harry?”

Harry whirled around, almost knocking old Tom to the ground in his rush. He hadn’t even realised that he had ended up outside the Leaky Cauldron. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry!” Harry blurted, hastening to help the old innkeeper up.

“Oh, no harm done.” Tom smiled cheerily and brushed himself off, fending off assistance from a suitably apologetic Harry. He regarded the younger man with kind, patient eyes. “Still in a rush for everything, aren’t you Harry? Why, I remember the first day you trotted in to the old inn. Just a lad, you were…”

Harry cut in desperately. “Tom, it’s really nice running into you and I’d love to catch up and all, but I’ve got a situation here. You haven’t seen a little boy running around, have you? Blond? Kind of chatty? About this high?”

Tom frowned as he gave it some thought. When he nodded slowly, Harry could have cried with relief. “Now that you mention it, I did see a little one a while back. Blond, yes. Holding a green christmas trinket, was he?”

“That’s him! Where did he go? Which way did he…”

“Oh, I remember now. The last I saw he was heading for Knockturn Alley…”

“What?!”

Harry staggered, torn between sprinting for the Alley or descending into hysterics—and he was doing a fantastic job on both counts—when Tom burst out laughing and patted his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist. Just pulling your leg, Harry. He came in here ten minutes ago. Smart little tyke, he is. Seemed to know he was lost so he just ran right in and...”

“He’s here?” Harry sagged against the wall. His heart was pounding like a kettledrum. “Are you...he’s really here? He’s safe?”

“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?”

Harry hurtled into the Leaky Cauldron, closely followed by Tom. A gaggle of giggling waitresses gushing and cooing over a table in the far right caught his eye. The bobbing blond head in the midst of the admiring crowd was unmistakable.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!”

Harry straightened his shoulders, marched over to the table and waded through Draco’s adoring public. There may have also been some arm-crossing and foot tapping involved as well, not that it fazed Draco at all. The little escape artist blinked up at him, the very picture of innocence. Harry wasn’t fooled for a second. “You are in so much trouble, young man. Don’t even get me started on how much trouble you’re…”

“Oh the little darling!” a young redhead gushed, shoving Harry aside and putting yet another soda in front of Draco. Harry raised an eyebrow as the little brat batted his lashes innocently and offered him a drippy ice cream cone. “Hawee?”

Harry smirked. “You’re not fooling me, you little Slytherin.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. _Oh_ ,” Harry grumbled as he picked him up. Draco whined in protest at having to abandon his—possibly eighth— soda but Harry was by no accounts done. “I suppose that’s all you have to say for yourself? Do you have any idea how worried Harry was? Do you?”

“No,” Draco challenged haughtily.

Harry bristled at the little imp’s gall. “Well, you’re about to. We are going home and then we’re going to have a long, long talk about your behaviour.”

“Why?” Draco demanded, sounding rather affronted about the whole thing.

“Because it was wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because it just was.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so, that’s why!”

Draco huffed and settled down on his shoulder, signalling an end to the conversation. Harry rolled his eyes and heaved his sulking burden to a shoulder. It was barely noon and he was exhausted. He didn’t even want to think about shopping any more. They could just get the rest of the decorations by owl post. He was going home.

“A handful, is he?” Tom enquired. His tone was distinctly amused.

Harry sighed and nodded wearily. “You have no idea. I look away for one minute and he’s in trouble.”

“Remind you of anyone?” Tom teased.

Harry shook his head bemusedly. Clearly, the fates were out to teach him a lesson. “How much do I owe you?” he asked Tom. “For the little monster’s midday snack?”

“Eight galleons, give or take a Knut.”

“On _soda?_  What did he do, swim in it?”

“Kids, eh?”

“Yeah, kids,” Harry sighed, forking over his cash. He hefted the little one in his arms again. “Come on, brat. Let’s go home and...Draco?”

There was no reply from the small blond save for a sleepy yawn. Harry’s eyes widened as two small arms wound around his neck, holding on securely. Draco snuggled into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Little puffs of air brushed at Harry’s neck as the child in his arms fell into deep, undisturbed sleep.

“Well, would you look at that,” Tom smiled. “Tired himself out, I’ll wager. You best get your little one home, Harry. The Floo’s at the back.”

Harry nodded his thanks distractedly as he made his way to the Floo. Draco snuggled into him again and Harry’s hand drifted up to pat his back gently.

Draco was so small...and the world was so big and unsafe. All Harry wanted to do was keep him safe. Forever.

Or, at least, until he was grown up again. Yes, of course. Until he was grown up…

Somehow the thought wasn’t exactly a happy one. Harry refused to dwell on it. Until the time came, he had Draco and that was all that mattered. “Let’s go home,” he whispered as he picked up some Floo Powder.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

Harry smiled and nodded at Tom, still carefully cradling the little blond against his chest. “It will be,” he agreed before stepping into the fireplace.

 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week went by in a flurry of Christmas related chaos. Harry barely had a second to sit and reflect on how utterly insane his life had become. Between tree and the decorations, gingerbread and cookie dough, gifts and more gifts—Harry was surprised he was still standing. Just the thought of everything that he still had to do to pull off a good Christmas made him dizzy.

At least they had a tree. Draco—in true form—refused to settle for anything less than perfect. It had taken them four hours of searching to finally find one that didn’t elicit a disdainful sniff from the picky little Malfoy.

And then they found The Tree. Harry had groaned even as Draco’s eyes widened exponentially in delight. Of course, he would take a shine to a tree that was the botanical equivalent of Hagrid. The nine foot something tree now held court in his small and utterly cramped living room, lurching precariously and getting pine needles all over his floor. Harry didn’t even want to think about how he was going to get it out when this was all over.

Decorating the damn thing wasn’t easy either. Particularly since, Draco wasn’t exactly grasping the concept.

“Draco, we’ve been over this,” Harry groaned as he plucked one of his socks from the low hanging branches, much to a certain toddler’s displeasure. “Only shiny things go up on the tree.”

“Why?”

Great. This again. Harry rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the blond head. “Just humour Harry, okay? _Only_ the shiny stuff.”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised to find his glasses, a wristwatch and all the good silverware up there the next morning. Next time—Harry resolved as he begrudgingly extricated a silver soup ladle from the branches—he would be more specific.

But little incidents aside, things were going smoothly. A routine of sorts had been established in the small household. Except, it wasn’t so much a routine as it was a few set rules and practices. For instance, Draco would most certainly wake Harry up at the crack of dawn: first by abandoning his own bed and snuggling in with Harry; then eventually getting bored and batting him on the head until he became fun again.

After that, it was pretty much anybody’s guess. They could go down to Diagon Alley for breakfast, maybe stop by Fortescue’s on the way back. But most days they just stayed home and spent time together. They would fuss about with the tree, or bake in the kitchen or even watch a movie on the telly. Personally, Harry would have preferred a film that didn’t feature little lost fish or rats who could cook, but Draco was alarmingly territorial with the remote. 

Still...whatever they did, they did it together, and Harry wouldn’t have changed a thing.

 

 

* * *

 

Until the day Draco got sick.

It started out as a fairly normal day. Christmas was hardly a week away and Harry was well on his way to a fit. He still didn’t have a present for Draco and there was so much baking left. Whoever heard of Christmas without cookies and plum cake? So Harry found himself in the middle of a half demolished kitchen, stirring batter like a man possessed.

Draco was perched on the countertop, offering occasional assistance by eating all the chocolate chips and making mountains out of icing sugar. Harry resigned himself to taking the odd break every now and then and cleaning him up before going back to his baking rampage again.

Business as usual.

It wasn’t until the fourth batch was in the oven that he realised Draco was oddly quiet.

“Hey you,” Harry smiled, brushing his fringe back gently. “Want to help me with the next batch?”

Draco shook his head slowly and sniffed. Harry frowned as the little boy blinked sleepily at him. His movements were sluggish and he was much too still for Harry’s liking. Usually, he would spend half his day chasing a hyperactive Draco through the flat. Come to think of it, Draco hadn’t moved from that spot since Harry put him there. Not liking any of this, he pressed the heel of his hand to the child’s forehead.

Too warm.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry muttered, picking him up at once. “How long have you been sick?”

Draco sniffed again and looped his arms around Harry’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder. Harry’s panic spiralled as the little body in his arms started shaking. Oh, this was bad. This was so bad.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, summoning a blanket and wrapping Draco up securely in it. “Harry’s got you, baby. Harry’s here. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

Draco whimpered and bunched small hands into his shirt. Harry was quite sure he’d never felt so useless in his life. What could he do? How does one look after a sick child? Was it okay to give him Pepper Up Potion? He didn’t know! He had no damn answers!

Hermione.

Her name came—like it often did—as a natural reaction in times of complete crisis. A wave of relief went through Harry. She would know what to do. She would come over and fix it. Everything would be okay. Harry wrote her a hasty owl, then spent the next twenty minutes rocking Draco gently as he paced the apartment. 

By the time, one of St Mungo’s delivery owls swooped in with her reply, Harry had graduated from mildly panicked to borderline hysterical. He swooped on the short missive and read through it frantically.

 

_Harry_

_Don’t worry about a thing. Blaise is coming over there as we speak._

_Listen to him. And please, don’t fight._

_Love_

_Hermione_

_PS: We’re getting closer to a cure, just so you know. Just thirty nine possible combinations to go!_

 

Heartening as that news was, Harry couldn’t quite focus on it in the face of his recently announced death sentence.

“Zabini,” he groaned. This had gone from bad to worse in record time. Hermione might have let him off with a lecture or two, but Zabini would skin him alive first, ask questions about child endangerment later.

It was official. Harry was a dead man.

“Uh oh,” Draco chirped, patting his head in commiseration.

Harry couldn’t help thinking that was a bit of an understatement.

 

 

* * *

 

Blaise stomped up the stairs to Potter’s unsightly little apartment complex, all the while mentally rehearsing various hexes he planned to throw at the bastard as soon as he was within wand range.

Blaise ground his teeth as he recalled said bastard’s owl. The prat! He had _one_ job. Taking care of Draco. He had volunteered...no, _demanded_ that Draco be placed in his care and now he was sick. Draco would never have fallen sick if Blaise had been the one looking after him! Clearly, Potter had been neglecting him horribly. Blaise glared and flexed his fingers in anticipation of a hexing spree. Potter was going to pay for his carelessness, he would see to it.

He zeroed in on Potter’s door almost instinctively and rapped three times to announce his presence. Apparition was of course, an option. But this way Potter would have to walk the proverbial green mile—the ominous dead man’s walk, if you will—to answer the door. Blaise was not averse to a little dramatic flair.

The first thing he noted when the door finally opened was that Potter looked bloody awful. There were shadows under his eyes and he looked panicked and exhausted all at the same time. The second thing he noticed was the little blond barnacle firmly attached to Potter’s hip. Draco turned to give Blaise a shy glance, then promptly buried his face in Potter’s shoulder again. Potter patted his head gently and address Blaise without preamble.

“You can hex me all you want _after_ you take a look at him,” he offered.

That, Blaise could work with. “Lead the way.”

Potter invited him in, carefully shifting Draco in his arms. The baby stirred with a small whine of complaint and Potter shushed him gently, patting his back and murmuring about how everything was going to be alright soon.

“That’s my good boy,” he whispered soothingly, brushing a kiss against Draco’s head. “Such a good, sweet boy.”

Blaise raised an interested eyebrow but said nothing as he made his way down the hallway. He couldn’t help noticing a few things that seemed a bit...out of place. The smell of freshly made Christmas cookies, popcorn garlands and mistletoe everywhere and that behemoth of a tree that was clearly acting as a roof supporting device of some sort. Clearly, he and Potter severely differed on the concept of ‘not doing much for the holidays’.

“It looks like the Yuletide Season had a wild night, crashed on your couch and threw up all over your flat,” he commented finally.

Potter chuckled at his description before offering a shrug and gesturing fondly at Draco. “You mentioned he hadn’t had the best Christmas recently. Think it will do?”

Blaise took another look around the festive flat. Aside from the Christmas paraphernalia, he noticed a few other touches. Toys strewn all over the floor. A high chair tucked in the corner. Evidence of Draco’s decorating. Blaise doubted that Potter would hang up cutlery on the tree. It was all here. This was clearly the home of a happy, well-looked-after child.

Blaise swallowed slightly. It was...possible he’d been too hasty when he’d pegged Potter as a careless, negligent guardian.

There was certainly no need to mention it though. Or Merlin forbid, offer an apology.

Blaise suppressed a shudder and turned back to Potter and Draco. “Now then. Shall we start working on making the little one all better?”

 

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Draco,” Harry coaxed gently. “Blaise just wants to help, okay?”

“No,” Draco declared, hiding in his chest stubbornly. He poked his head out to give Blaise a scowl, apparently convinced that this was all his fault. Harry would never dream of giving him that vile looking potion if _he_ hadn’t suggested it.

“Draco, stop being unreasonable,” Harry countered sternly, fully aware that he may as well be asking a Blast Ended Skrewt to stop being revolting or Hagrid to stop being tall. Draco was _born_ unreasonable. “You need to drink this if you want to get better. Can’t you do it for Harry?”

“No,” Draco mumbled sullenly. But he didn’t sound quite so vehement about it any more.

Harry sensed a weak spot and barrelled on. He turned imploring, green eyes on the snippy blond. “You’ll make me very happy.”

All he got was a flat, unyielding look in response. Harry’s shoulders slumped.

At least, Zabini had the grace to not laugh out loud. Still, he couldn’t help looking amused as he offered a suggestion. “Bribes may be in order, Potter.”

Of course. Harry sighed and took off his glasses. Draco had always been rather enamoured of them. Sure enough, his eyes widened as Harry handed them over. “Would you like to play with these? You can, if you take your potion.”

Draco squeaked in delight and grappled for his treasure. It took a while for him to wrestle them on to his face—just enough time for Blaise to feed him some of the vile potion. Fortunately, Draco was too preoccupied to do more than grimace at the nasty taste. Harry heaved a sigh of relief and offered some petting and a kiss as praise. Draco gurgled happily at him, blinking from behind his newly acquired frames.

Harry couldn’t help a bark of laughter at the sight. Draco’s eyes were gigantic and bug like thanks to the glasses. They sat crookedly, propped precariously on his too little face. He was a shoo in for the World’s Most Adorable Insect Category. Still chuckling, Harry pressed a fond kiss to his head.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he grinned. “Now give them back before you ruin your eyes.”

He plucked the glasses off and swiped a gentle thumb over Draco’s eyelids. The little boy yawned sleepily and settled down, curling trustingly into Harry’s chest and closing his eyes. Harry smiled softly at the sight. “Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered.

“He should be out for the night.”

Harry jumped at Zabini’s soft voice. For a second, he’d forgotten all about him. Zabini gave him a brief nod as he picked up his briefcase and headed to the Floo. “Just make sure to keep the house warm and give him that potion once a day. He should be just fine by Christmas.”

“That’s a relief,” Harry admitted. “He’s looking forward to it.”

“So I see.” Zabini nodded slowly. He took another look around the apartment and offered a tentative smile. “It...seems I misjudged you, Potter. You did alright.”

A truce. Harry smiled back. “You’ll come by for a visit on Christmas, won’t you? I mean, you can take a break from working on the cure for a few hours, right?”

Zabini smirked. “Potter, if I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted to keep him like this.”

Harry flushed. Was it that obvious? “He’s grown on me.” He shrugged, smiling softly at the sleeping baby in his arms. “But I want him to get better. I sort of miss the grown up version too.”

“Soon,” Zabini promised. “Hermione’s been working day and night on it. She’s a...very talented witch.” Harry didn’t miss the way he fidgeted slightly at the mention of Hermione. He could swear Zabini was blushing. Harry bit his lip to a hide a grin before speaking up again. “You know, we’re not so different.”

“We’re not?” Zabini demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. “Well, we are. But we do have some things in common. We’re both very protective of our friends. It’s hard for us to trust them with other people.”

Zabini chuckled. “Perks of being a best friend, eh?”

Harry grinned in commiseration and nodded. “I’m just saying that it was...decent of you to entrust Draco to me. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to do. Point is, you did it anyway. I suppose I could...return the favour.”

Zabini’s smile gave way to an amused smirk. “You realise I don’t need your permission, right?”

Harry smirked back. “You do, and you have it.”

Zabini was smart enough not to argue back. He nodded in acceptance and made his way to the Floo. “I’ll see you soon, Potter. And if I haven’t said it before, Merry Christmas.”

And then he was gone, leaving Harry with his sleeping bundle and his mixed up thoughts.

_Potter, if I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted to keep him like this._

Harry sighed. Zabini didn’t know the half of it.

 

 

* * *

 

By the time Harry knew it, Christmas Eve was here. Draco had made a full recovery and was beside himself with excitement. It was all Harry could do to keep him from demolishing the apartment. Even threats of being put on Santa’s naughty list had no effect.

There were little snatches of calm though, and those were Harry’s favourite. Hiding under a blanket with Draco and watching old Christmas movies on the telly...there was a quiet sort of joy in it that Harry couldn’t describe. Although Draco did throw a cookie at _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ a couple times. But for the most part, they sat together in peaceful, comfortable silence and just enjoyed each other’s company.

Evening rolled around in no time. Hermione and Zabini would be coming by soon. In the meantime, Harry entertained himself by delighting Draco with stories about Christmas.

“...and then on Christmas morning, when you wake up there will be presents under the tree,” he finished, laughing softly as Draco _oohed_ in awe. Harry smiled and kissed his cheek. “All for you,” he promised. “But the sooner you go to bed, the sooner Christmas will be here.”

“Hawee?”

“Yes, baby?”

Draco glanced up at him shyly before pressing something in his hand. Harry stared down at the crumbly raisin cookie in his palm. Hadn’t they finished these last…

“Chwismas,” Draco mumbled bashfully as he nuzzled into his chest.

Harry’s heart flooded. “You saved me a cookie?” Draco loved these. He couldn’t get enough of them...but he had kept one for Harry. For Christmas. Harry’s throat clenched and he managed a choked little laugh as he handled the moldy cookie carefully. It was easily the best Christmas present he could have ever asked for.

“Thank you, Draco,” he whispered softly. “I love it.”

Draco grinned happily and scrambled off his lap. Harry raised an eyebrow as he pattered off, only to re-emerge with a book tucked under his arm. He handed it to Harry and clambered back on his lap. “Stowy,” he commanded, arranging himself and looking up at Harry expectantly.

Harry laughed and thumbed through the book. “Of course,” he replied. “But you need to go to sleep after this, okay?” He cleared his throat and started to read.

_’_ _Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house..._

Draco was asleep when the Floo flared to life. Harry looked up and smiled as Zabini and Hermione tumbled into his flat, hand in hand no less. “You’re late,” he began. “He just…”

“Harry,” Hermione cut in. She was still wearing a lab coat and she looked frazzled but excited. Zabini stood next to her. He seemed calmer, but the flicker in his eyes made Harry frown. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“We just got out of the lab,” Hermione explained, her eyes shining happily. “We did it! We found a cure!”

 

 

* * *

 

Harry stared at them, trying to process Hermione’s non stop stream of babble. The house was quiet save for her chattering. Draco breathed peacefully in his arms. Harry’s arms tightened around him.

A cure. Tonight?

“...took hours and hours,” Hermione was saying. “But we eliminated every other possibility. This has to be the one. We can take him now and he’ll be back to normal by tomorrow. Although I hope he remembers his experiences. This will make such an interesting paper for the Magical Medical Committee. I can’t wait to…”

“Hermione,” Zabini cut in. His voice was gentle, but firm. He turned to Harry and his expression was apologetic. “We need to take him tonight, Potter. Now. The Potion is volatile and it takes hours to brew. We...we should have him there now if we want to see this through.”

“Now?” Harry whispered. So soon? But Christmas was just a few hours away and…Draco had been so excited. _He_ had been so excited.

“Now,” Zabini replied quietly. “I’m sorry about...we need him back the way he was, Potter.”

Hermione stared at both of them, realization dawning slowly. “Harry,” she whispered, sounding stricken. “Oh Harry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think…”

“Don’t be,” Harry muttered. The last thing he wanted was pity. He nodded firmly and got up, lifting Draco gently. His heart stirred painfully. He was going. He was leaving. Harry would never see this little boy again. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t like it but...you’re right.”

Zabini nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Harry halted. He couldn’t see it happen. Gryffindor or not, he couldn’t just watch his little one disappear before his eyes and pretend he never existed. Draco might not even remember any of this. But Harry would. He wanted to remember Draco this way. He shook his head and handed the sleeping child over to Hermione. She took Draco and cradled him carefully in her arms, and Harry was grateful for that. “Take him,” he said. “Tell him I said hi.”

“Harry…”

“Please.”

She nodded, before turning away with a slight sniff. Draco stirred in her arms. “Hawee?”

Harry was over in an instant, shushing him softly and petting his hair. “Go to sleep, little one. It’s almost Christmas. Hush, now…”

Draco mumbled in complaint but closed his eyes and fell asleep again. Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat and removed his hand. “Bye, Draco,” he whispered.

Hermione stepped into the Floo with Draco, leaving ashes behind as she left. Harry stared after her, looking into the flickering flames. He was gone. Draco was gone.

“There’s a chance he’ll remember,” Zabini offered. He didn’t sound too certain. Harry suspected he was trying to make him feel better. He smiled weakly and clasped the Italian’s shoulder. “Just get him better. I miss my irritating co-worker.”

Zabini looked like he wanted to say something. But eventually he nodded his acquiescence and turned to the floo. A sudden thought struck Harry and he stopped him.

Zabini, wait.”

Harry summoned a small, brightly wrapped box over and handed it to him. “Give him this,” he told Zabini. “Tell him I said Merry Christmas.”

Zabini shoved his hands in his pockets. “You give it to him.”

Harry shook his head and thrust the gift in his hands. “Please, Blaise. I just want him to have his Christmas present.”

Zabini sighed and accepted the gift, offering a farewell nod before stepping into the floo. The flames died out as he left and then Harry was truly alone.

 

 

* * *

 

Christmas had never been worse. A snow storm had swept in last night, evidently in tandem with Harry’s mood. He had spent the entire day moping around the apartment and refusing Hermione’s incessant invitations to come over for a bit. She’d probably be better off with Zabini. Harry was in no mood to celebrate.

It had taken almost all day to clean up his flat. Harry hadn’t realized how chaotic his existence had become ever since Draco had come to stay with him. The place was a mess. But, he couldn’t bring himself to take the spoons off the tree or to put away the unused cookie dough.

Now it was evening. The storm was still raging but there was a fire going and the dim light flickered pleasantly in the hearth as _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ played on the telly. It was nice, cozy even. But to Harry, it didn’t seem right without a little blond toddling all over the place and getting his hands in everything…

The knock at the door was unexpected. Harry jumped, startled out of his maudlin thoughts. Who in Merlin’s name would be daft enough to brave a storm like this?

Harry swung the door open and his eyes widened. His hand froze on the doorknob and he was aware that it was freezing out here and he was shivering. But he couldn’t stop staring at his guest.

He had forgotten how handsome grown up Malfoy was.

“Potter,” he greeted quietly, straightening his scarf. His cheeks were red from the cold and his blond hair was flecked with snow. He cut such a slim, elegant figure. It seemed like just yesterday that Harry could pick him up and cart him around.

Probably because it _was_ yesterday...

Harry cracked a rueful smile. “You’re all grown up,” he said.

Malfoy nodded tersely and cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

Harry stepped aside, watching Malfoy’s back as he entered. He stopped to look around the small flat. His eyes strayed to a food stain on the wall and he stopped in his tracks. “I did that,” he announced, sounding rather bemused about it.

Harry chuckled. “That was the last time I ever tried feeding you baby food. You...” Realization dawned and Harry trailed off. “You remember,” he whispered softly. “They said you wouldn’t but you…”

“Some of it,” Draco replied softly, fiddling with his scarf again. “It’s coming back slowly. And...Blaise filled me in on some of it.”

“He did?” Harry made a mental note to thank Zabini sometime in the near future.

“He said they were good memories. Worth keeping,” Draco said softly. He rummaged around in his pocket before pulling out something Harry recognized instantly. “He said the same about these.”

Harry laughed and took the miniature spectacles from Draco, handling them carefully. They had been easy enough to make. He just shrank down one of his own pairs. The tricky bit was putting in that strain free spell to protect the eyes of the wearer. Draco hadn’t needed glasses after all. The last thing Harry wanted to do was damage his eyesight.

That had taken hours. He had been looking forward to seeing Draco’s little face light up when he saw them.

“You liked mine so much,” he explained to adult Draco. “It was silly but I figured you’d like your own pair and…”

“And maybe I’d stop coming after yours?” Draco questioned with a slight smile.

“Something like that,” Harry chuckled. “I’m... really glad you’re okay. It’s great. Better, I mean...”

“You weren’t there.”

Harry looked up, surprised by the slight hitch in Malfoy’s voice. Malfoy stared back, and the hurt and uncertainty in his eyes made Harry’s heart ache. He looked like a little boy all over again. Harry swallowed. He _was_ that little boy…and he was upset. Harry needed to make it better. That’s what he did.

“Draco?” he questioned gently. “Tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Draco scowled at a him, before turning abruptly and focusing on a wall instead. “I woke up and I didn’t remember much. But I remembered...you. Bits and pieces, but it was something. I thought you’d be there. You weren’t.”

“I wanted to be,” Harry replied, approaching slowly and tracing a hesitant, gentle hand across Draco’s cheek. Draco stiffened, but didn’t pull away. Harry smiled reassuringly, petting him as he spoke. In his experience, this was the best way to get Draco to listen. He hoped it still worked. “I did. I just thought it would be best if...I wasn’t sure if you’d remember. Or what you’d remember.I wanted to do what was best for you, Draco. I promise, I was only thinking of you.”

“You wanted me to leave?”

“Of course not!” Harry scolded. His grip tightened slightly on Draco’s shoulders. “You know if you tried talking to me instead of sulking we wouldn’t have these problems. This is just like that time I wouldn’t let you play tag with that Bludger. You didn’t talk to me all day and…”

“I _came_ here to talk to you, you overbearing prat! And I’m not a child anymore,” Draco snapped back. He blinked as he processed Harry’s last statement. “I tried to play tag with a Bludger?”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “I missed you,” he confessed. “You’ve been gone a day and I’ve missed you like mad. I thought I’d never see you again. You know, like that. But here you are. Not everything’s changed.”

“It hasn’t?” Draco sounded so unsure. Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he could protest.

“Not from where I’m standing. Now, do you want to watch some telly?”

Draco frowned. “Why?”

“They’re showing _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ again.”

“Why?”

Harry burst into laughter and pulled the poor, confused thing into a hug again. “Nothing’s changed,” he murmured, half to himself. 

Perhaps, this Christmas would turn out okay after all.

 

 

* * *

 

The telly droned on as they lay comfortably on the couch. Well, comfort was a stretch. Draco certainly took up much more room and there was hardly any way to move around with him wedged in like that. Harry regarded the sleeping blond with a smile. The book he’d been reading to Draco from hung limply in his grasp.

Some things had certainly changed. He would be a fool to ignore how much Draco had grown up in a day. Literally, in a day. His limbs were too long, there was stubble on his jaw and Harry could feel his toned muscles under the form fitting sweater he was wearing. He was a handsome, grown-up man instead of an adorable, precocious little boy now. No, he couldn’t ignore that part. Perhaps, sometime in the future he would even do something about it. But right now, it was nice just to have him here and know that his little boy was still there somewhere.

Harry could see him in Draco’s peaceful expression, the way his lashes fluttered as he slept, the way he pursed his lips when he was dreaming...bits and pieces. But they were there. And Harry wouldn’t give them up for the world.

“Harry?”

Draco’s stirred sleepily next to him and Harry shushed him gently, a habit he was loath to break. “Go to sleep, baby. It’s late.”

“You stopped reading,” Draco complained petulantly as he settled down again.

Harry smiled and kissed his forehead. “I was almost finished. But I’ll read that last bit for you again, okay?” 

Draco hummed his approval and closed his eyes again. Harry gathered him closer and stroked his hair as they finally wrapped up Christmas. One of the best Christmases either had had in a very long time.

 

_“But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,_

_Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”_

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
